


Dawning Mire

by Talonticus



Series: Arrow and Spider [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Confrontational Romance, Drama, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, bit of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7043524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talonticus/pseuds/Talonticus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naryu has difficulties dealing with heroes, especially when they manage to get to her head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Token slice

**Author's Note:**

> _Just a short story I've been thinking about for a little while now. Naryu is among my favorite characters of any story in ESO, so I wanted to get something written with her._   
>  _The other character, the "Vestige" or "Pact hero" or whatever in this, is a character I created fairly recently. Don't have anything written about her, but[here](https://creativebankruptcy.tumblr.com/post/168367664770/existentialquestionmark-screenshots-of-my-altmer) is a couple of in-game screenshots._

Samyrwe.  
That’s the name for it – the source of her unequivocal thirst, the woman who just refuses to get out of her thoughts. A constant reminder, like a nagging voice in her head that won’t shut up, and she doesn’t understand why. It doesn’t befit a person of Naryu’s stature and profession to be so enamoured with someone like this lady. It’s annoying to such a level that it becomes difficult to describe other than with frustrated groans and exasperated thrashing. 

There are also numerous innate traits which Naryu would describe as both aggravating and tempting.  
That confident smile which materializes whenever she gains a flash of brilliance or handles a particularly arduous situation.  
The quick wit which she manages to cultivate, despite the disadvantage of her origin and her apparent lack of opportunity to gain the same knowledge as many others of her peers.  
Last but not least, the conventions which she breaks while hiding in the shadows or the willingness to get dirty in order to obtain her goals. She’s an altmer for Mephala’s sake! All the stereotypes about them mention their unwillingness to perform such misdeeds, no matter the circumstances. Then again, perhaps it’s stupid to generalize, as Naryu is very familiar with the notion of suffering under such perspectives. 

Who would’ve thought that one of the few high elves born in Morrowind would rise as one of the Ebonheart Pact’s fiercest and most loyal fighters, maybe even being recognized as a hero? It irritates the assassin to no end. Not for the fact that she’s not a dunmer, but because it’s very enticing. She actually considers the idea of the unconventional hero to be attractive, to such an extent that she can’t stop thinking about it. 

Originally, the two just started off as being a hindrance to one another. Or rather, Samyrwe was one to her, lumbering clumsily into an investigation which Naryu was handling. She didn't want some overly virtuous, deferent fool mucking everything up.  
Gradually, she came to understand the use of the other elf and the potential for exchanging favors. Sure, Naryu performed most of the investigative and intellectual work, while Samyrwe tackled the practical effort - and the altmer did perhaps get a _little_ bit too much of the credit for the whole ordeal - but in the end, she had very little to complain about. They both achieved their desired outcome and the assassin appreciated the assistance.

It was at this stage when their conversations became more frequent, they drifted closer on a multitude of levels and Naryu managed to poke and prod until she grasped the essence of the person that Samyrwe truly is. She was used to suggesting and insinuating playful affairs with a variety of men and women, possibly even utilize overt seduction, but for the most part, this was all an aspect of her profession, in order to accomplish her stated goals more effectively. It was expected from her by the organization she dedicates her life to.   
What isn’t, however, is that she’ll start to _enjoy_ such activities, revel in them, with the person she sets her verbal ministration upon. At that point, doesn’t she lose the advantage and allow herself to fall directly into her own trap? Everyone else is supposed to expose their innermost aspirations to her, not the opposite. This is why it needs to be rectified.

The winds of Eastmarch delicately brush her skin, setting a very foreign cold into her body and soul. She must ingest it, incorporate the purpose into her being. It’s why she has come here, why she has prepared herself to do what’s necessary. She can no longer allow these distractions to proceed, for they might transform and expose a weakness. If she reaches that threshold, her work is done, as is her practicality. Not just to the Tong, but to herself.

The moment she realized the necessity of more gruesome measures was a few days prior, when they worked together to save the King from deceit and death by his own brother. It was a cunning plan to be sure, but the joint skill and knowledge of the two elven women could easily outwit their adversaries. Naturally, it required some strenuous effort to succeed, but Naryu expected them to win. For some reason, Samyrwe always seem to triumph, regardless of the odds. That cannot happen today.

Jorunn’s Stand, that’s where she’s currently waiting and biding her time, trying to find the proper location and angle where she can finish her mission. It’s on this night that a hero of the Pact needs to fall. The consequences of this action are unmistakably dire, though, a fact she can’t ignore. Samyrwe’s capabilities and fighting skills have been incredible boons so far in many other areas of Pact territory and have even led to numerous nigh miraculous victories. If she dies here, will that mean victory for the Stormfists and the King’s brother, something that may lead to a crippling situation for the Pact? Isn’t this the exact kind of outcome Naryu is struggling to prevent?  
As she sits upon some sturdy rocks on the outskirts of the camp, watching the darkened road illuminated by several torches, she pushes all those thoughts to the back of her mind. This night, only her needs matter and this thorn has to be ripped out, or she’ll never get peace. Damn the consequences. 

Several anxious minutes passes by, until she can finally spot the elf wandering in the center of the road. She’s alone of course, as she often prefers solitude when she completes her assignments. She’s a loner, one who puts her faith solely in her own abilities. A very familiar trait.  
Naryu knows that Samyrwe will be on edge in this occasion, because she rarely lowers her guard. A bunch of other individuals with murderous intent never predicted that truth and therefore failed when they tried this exact maneuver in the past. Perhaps such uncertainties, or some sort of subconscious regret, ends up being the reason why the dagger she throws at Samyrwe misses and instead pierces the earth of a nearby hill. Her own body shouldn’t betray her on such a crucial moment, and yet it did. N’chow. 

After the impact, the altmer swirls around and draws her own blades so quickly that Naryu’s weapon is parried before it even gets close to the flesh it yearns for, once the assassin charges in. In the light of the torches that burn nearby, she gets a fairly good view of those alluring yellow eyes and neatly prepared golden blonde hair. Part of her wishes to tear the sight apart with her daggers, while another shrieks with desire. Craving and loathing, she can’t decide which components to embrace. 

For several moments, the air is filled with small bite-sized clinking noises deriving from the swords and daggers clashing against one another. Naryu claims the role of an attacker to begin with, as she exploits the advantage of the ambush, but the altmer is an experienced combatant, a feature she has known of since the first days of their united efforts in Deshaan. Samyrwe blocks and deflects, before locating dents within the onslaught to seize and forge a counterattack. Within a few seconds, she has turned the duel around and for a short while, Naryu is forced to erect desperate defensive measures instead. 

She was of course prepared for the darkness that the night hails, and therefore dressed accordingly. Very little of her regular armor adorns her body, to diminish the risk of being recognized. Instead of the typical black leather outfit, she wears something dark green, a mixture of cloth pieces and chain armor. Not an abundance, to avoid making it too heavy, but enough to protect her if anything goes awry.   
She simply had to acquire so much excess equipment, to rule out the most harrowing effects. The last thing she wants is for Samyrwe to identify her right now. If that happens, she might just break and falter. Although, what does this actually tell her? Is she on the wrong path, deluding herself? If she can’t even remain resolute in her decision, then what’s the point of adhering to it? 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear as if this is her night either, and the longer the fight continues, the further away her victory is drifting. She should’ve made that first throw, shouldn’t she? That would’ve given her a dominant position, which could’ve minimized the heartache of this trial.   
It’d be pretty ironic if she succumbs now, forcing the hero to kill a woman she’s supposed to trust, maybe even cares for, without realizing the truth. At this stage, Naryu might prefer that option, to just die rather than let her treachery be uncovered.

As she lingers on those considerations in the middle of battle, one of Samyrwe’s blade goes astray and strikes high, but not fast enough for Naryu to miss it. Her reflexes still appear to function, despite a few minor injuries sustained during this struggle, and she dodges the attack, but her clothes do not. The sword tears into the piece attached to her hood, which protects her mouth, dropping the fabric to the ground and exposing her facial features. 

The light dawns upon her face as Samyrwe widens her eyes and takes several uncertain steps back. The altmer instinctively swallows before speaking.  
“By the Three…  
Naryu? How-…what’s going on here?” 

The exposure prompts hesitation in both and Naryu attempts to hide her face by looking away. Defeated by her own doubts, what kind of cruel fate is that? It’s one of misery, only meant for fools and people who stroll too deeply down the path of heroic deeds. Their roles should be reversed, at least in spirit.   
Gritting her own teeth, she doesn’t speak and instead slashes when there’s an opportunity, disarming the shocked high elf and then delivers a hard knee right into her gut. Samyrwe emits a shocked groan, not being prepared to defend herself so abruptly and Naryu snatches the opportunity to grab her and throw her against the nearby dirt wall. The altmer stumbles towards it, but manages to get her hands up in time to stop the impact. Afterwards, she rapidly spins around and faces her attacker again. 

Naryu allows her frustration to boil and rear its ugly head. She launches both blades towards her target simultaneously, but despite trying to force the rage into them, there’s not enough strength and intent imbued within. This allows Samyrwe to extend her hands and grab both of Naryu’s wrists. The blades continue along their path, but instead pierces the wall which the altmer leans against, slams into it and then stays there.   
Several harrowing moments passes by as they try to gather themselves and the air is filled by no noise in the area except their heavy breathing. Their bodies touch, but just barely and Naryu isn’t sure if she dares to look up. 

She has failed. The conclusion of all this effort, all this planning and trudging through anxiety for the future, has left her with nothing but shame and defeat.  
That said, despite the wish to throw blame, she feels like this failure was engineered by her own lack of faith, rather than anything Samyrwe did. She couldn’t have accomplished this to begin with, could she? The effort just needed to be pursued, to test whether she really lacked the will to perform her intentions or not.

“Naryu, I…I don’t understand. We’re not enemies! Why would you do this, after all we’ve gone through?” 

Quite a few moments of silence go by and she’s not sure whether there is any suitable answer lying in wait. Eventually, her grip on the blades loosen and she snorts while she veers to face the other woman.  
“You know what annoys me the most about people? They’re all so easily tricked and manipulated. There’s always some angle you can track down and abuse, to tear them apart piece by piece, with preposterous ease. It’s an inevitably for everyone and there’s not a thing they can do about it.   
Not even me.” 

She drops the hilts completely, shifting her hands up to the collar around Samyrwe’s neck and pulls the other elf down forcefully to Naryu’s height. When their lips crash into a much-awaited union, she can finally sense how the doubts subside. Perhaps it wasn’t all for naught.


	2. Grime of the pearl

A fervently preaching priestess in front of a group of dunmer; a merchant shouting behind his stall while trying to relay his wares to the people drifting about; an Ordinator wandering the streets, keeping a vigilant eye on all the citizens whether from the city or not, in order to maintain the peace of order.   
All of them, and many more, are different in mind and body, with a wide set of opinions and beliefs. At times, she wonders how many of them despises the kind of task she performs and the way in which she has chosen to live. If she revealed the organization she has dedicated her life to, would they spit in her face and call for her execution? How many still support them in this dire time of misery and warfare? 

In the past, they used to be such a respected part of society. Granted, it was not on the level of the Temple and the Great Houses, but they still held a pivotal role. They performed a service which no one else could, one that was still very much needed. After the creation of the Pact, all of this changed, and they became an inconvenience, something which the others would frown upon. Perhaps she and the others should’ve anticipated that long ago, though. No one wants to admit the darker facets of their society, when it really comes down to it. They’d rather expose the outside to all the fine, laudable and proper traits they’ve procured and hide the rest under the rug. 

As Naryu walks the streets of Mournhold, she’s dressed casually in a loose set of black and red clothes, blending in among the rest just as easily as any civilian, but this is only a facade. From within, she senses how different she truly is.   
The attention of the citizens is focused on matters pertaining to their personal lives and needs, but she’s sure that would all change if she revealed the reality of her identity, the ugly truth. At times, she despises such hypocrisy, when they’d have no qualms about praising the Tong’s name to the heavens, if they required assistance.   
Then again, perhaps this reaction is her own fault, for being too fixated on gaining their recognition and admiration. Does she really need the acceptance of the common people of Morrowind? Do their wishes, opinions and ideologies matter? The organization she clings to will endure, in spite of the hate, threats and vilification. 

Well, this angle tends to be acknowledged as all-encompassing, but there is one small and lovely exception.  
Within the vicinity of the grand Tribunal Temple in the capital, she hides inside an alley behind a few houses nearby, eagerly watching the stairs, hoping to spot the person she has lingered here for. It’s the only one she’d ever actually dress up and stroll through this city for, outside of work. It’s ridiculous really, how much she craves the attention of that woman. Her approval may be so important that Naryu would falter if it ever fell out of her grasp.   
Eventually, she detects the high elf descending the stairs by the temple, likely exiting after a visit. She’s of the few people who can pretty much come and go as she pleases. Okay, not completely without the agreement of the dear Mother of Morrowind, but it appears this altmer has become one of the favorite followers of that divine being. In a way, it’s annoying how easily the goddess can capture the high elf’s devotion.

Samyrwe was born in Morrowind and has been a worshipper of the Tribunal since childhood, and as far as Naryu is aware, that has never wavered. Not even now, during the most hectic days, when everyone requires the assistance of the so called “King’s Arrow”, the Pact’s favorite little hero.   
She’s allowed to do as she wishes, perhaps, as long as Naryu can have a little bit of time alone with her, of course.  
After their clash in Eastmarch months ago, it almost felt like they might never see one another again, as they both had so much to do. But as the assassin grew to accept her own feelings, she’s not about to let this union be torn apart. No one is allowed to step in between them – not a goddess and not a king. Damn them all if they try. 

As the tall golden-skinned woman slides down the stairs, a slight whistle can be heard from her right, which instantly catches her attention. Sam has always had keen senses and notices small details in her surroundings fairly easy. This sound isn’t particularly subtle, anyway.   
When she veers to the correct direction, she spots a very familiar dunmer, one that immediately makes her lips form a smile. Just another sight which sends pleasant sensations surging through Naryu’s head and forces her to rein in yearning desires that wish to burst towards the surface.  
She gestures invitingly with her finger and Sam complies. 

The alley which they meet in is quiet and empty. There’s a bit of dust and grime along the ground, but she maintains the belief that it’s a suitable area, as long as this process proceeds down the path she anticipates.  
When Sam steps inside and glances around, she hears a confident and moderately suggestive voice along the wall, one she’s become very accustomed to by now.  
“Almalexia really seems to have a thing for you, doesn’t she? Hope you’re not trying to make me jealous of her.” 

While Sam enters the area, Naryu takes the opportunity to survey her partner. Long set of white robes with golden lines adorn her body, with short sleeves that exposes her tattooed arms and ends just below her knees. It’s made of a fine and expensive material, an item she apparently procured from a tailor who claimed to be an admirer. Naryu isn’t entirely sure if she enjoys that prospect, but as long as she’s the sole person allowed intimacy, it doesn’t matter. Probably.   
She’s also acutely aware that she’d actually consider donning such attires as well, should this woman request it, but that hopefully won’t transpire. Sam wears them with so much more grace and elegance anyhow.

The high elf folds her arms and arches an eyebrow.  
“She’s a goddess, Naryu. I don’t think any mortal being could ever make her feel desire enough to want us in that way.” 

“How little you know, hero. Haven’t you heard of the scandals surrounding our dear Mother Morrowind from the last century? There are all sorts of decadent tales where she indulged in unimaginable pleasure with men and women from all the Great Houses, and even some commoners!”

A playful smirk decorates her lips as she speaks and if it was anyone else, it’s very likely that Sam would take offense, but this is just the kind of teasing that should be expected from Naryu.  
“Tsk. You know what? I think jealousy quite suits you, actually.” 

Naryu pushes herself away from the wall and walks closer, an intense, almost vicious gaze glinting in her eyes. Sam meets the challenge as best as she can.  
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I do to those who try to take what’s mine.” 

“What, you’re going to try to kill a goddess? Even you wouldn’t be that daring.”

When they’re close enough in proximity, Naryu grabs the other woman’s arms and gently pushes her against the aforementioned wall. Sam could resist, but appears amused instead.  
“Doubt my bravery, do you? Surely, you’re aware of which group was responsible for ending the last Emperor’s reign, right?”

Sam rolls her eyes as she smiles wryly, feeling Naryu’s hands enticingly stroking her arms and squeezing the toned contexture.   
“He was mortal just like the rest of us, silly. Almalexia is immortal and has been around since even before his time.”

“Mm, and imagine how shocked Tamriel will be when she lies dead on the temple floor, and see the writing in divine blood upon the walls. ‘This s’wit tried to steal my woman’.” 

It might be sacrilege to speak or find this humorous, but even a hero like this has a dark side to her mind. Sam chuckles gently and shakes her head.  
“You’re crazy.”

“You have no idea.”

In a swift and careful move, Naryu seizes the other elf by her waist and hoists her up, placing her upon some of the crates pushed together at the end of the nearby wall. Sam certainly wasn’t ready for such a shift and gasps in surprise as it happens.  
“Whoa! W-what are you-“

“Be quiet.”  
Naryu’s voice is firm but not unkind, the same traits felt in the grip she places upon Sam’s wrists, just before she forces them down above her head on the crate. Moments after, she puts them together so she can hold them both within one hand. 

There’s a flush of warmth running across Sam’s cheeks when she feels the sudden movement and how the assassin straddles her. They’d agreed to meet in the city today, but she wouldn’t have had this sorts of activity in mind. When Naryu’s lips captures hers in a rough manner, though, there’s not really any resistance thrown in its path. Instead, a cautious compliance is offered, just the kind of reaction Naryu craves. It gives her enough courage to continue and she pushes her tongue inside her lover’s mouth, momentarily creating an even fiercer kiss. Not a struggle for dominance, but a nigh desperate search for affection.  
For a little while, Sam squirms, but it’s mostly the reaction of her body wanting to gain more. It’s embarrassing to consider how easily she’s manipulated by desire, but the touch of Naryu’s other hand along her breasts and stomach sends ripples of passionate heat into her mind.

Eventually, their lips part for a few moments and gasps mixed with a faint moan escapes Sam’s throat. She tries to fight against it, but when such ardent waves of pleasure approach her shores, it’s practically unstoppable and she can’t do much to counter any ministrations.   
Naryu continues to kiss along the altmer’s cheek and down to her neck, all while trying to fondle any exposed sections of that alluring body. Her pecks aren’t really of the gentle kind, though, for she intertwines them with her teeth, turning the motions into a delightful set of bite-kisses. Fortunately, it’s the sort of treatment which drives Sam mad with yearning. 

“N-Naryu, are you…are you sure this is a suitable place? There are people right across the building, you know.”  
She manages to push the words forth, despite the constant mental opposition that rages at her for even trying to argue.

“You think I care? Let them believe whatever they want, because I’m not going to wait a few more minutes just for us to find a secluded bed.” 

“B-but…”

Naryu slides up, still holding the altmer down as she leans her forehead against her partner’s.  
“Let’s focus on having fun, shall we? Forget about the world for just a little while, hero, and concentrate on nothing but the two of us.”

At this point, Sam isn’t even sure if this is a result of the aforementioned envy or simply a wish to mess with the high elf. It’s probably not important, for Sam’s resistance was just a faux attempt at showing some decency.   
“I hate when you win.” 

A smirk creeps up along Naryu’s lips and she moves to the side, getting the chance to nibble at an ear lobe. Another place she has identified as Sam’s weakness, which makes it difficult for the Arrow to focus.  
While still pinning the arms down, she slowly slips off Sam’s waist and pulls at the robes to expose her lower regions.  
“I really _adore_ the way you look in this, darling, but I’m afraid it’s too much of a hindrance.”

“Don’t tear it!”

The smirk grows into a grin as she finally gets to grope some skin.  
“I promise nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, actual smut isn't something I'm good at, so it didn't get all too far._


End file.
